


Make Hay While the Sun Shines

by Charnia



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-22
Updated: 2010-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-13 23:49:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/143032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charnia/pseuds/Charnia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mirun Mahariel and Zevran discover an excellent hideaway while scouting out a farm that has fallen to the Blight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make Hay While the Sun Shines

**Author's Note:**

> This story was started by this kmeme prompt: http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/1636.html?thread=2428260#t2428260 The prompt was for art (ably filled by MinaBW here: http://minabw.deviantart.com/gallery/#/d33paa9), but the idea stuck in my head. I later read another kmeme prompt I've long since lost and combined the two to make this story.

They knew when they walked up to the farmhouse that nothing good awaited them. The decaying carcass of an ox lay on the ground outside, its abdomen torn open, whether by darkspawn or scavengers it was impossible to say. The door to the house had been broken in and the windows smashed.

“Alistair, Zevran, come with me,” Mirun said. He drew his daggers and cautiously went into the house, the others behind him. The house was heavy with the stench of death, and Mirun had no illusions about what they would find there. A few minutes later they hurried out, and Mirun leaned against a post on the porch to catch his breath.

“All dead,” he said to the others. “Let’s spread out and look around, perhaps we can camp in the barn tonight.” Camping in the house was out of the question, no matter how Leliana might long for a proper mattress. He himself wasn’t fond of the idea of sleeping indoors, used to sleeping under the stars or in an aravel, but the others preferred it when possible.

“I’ll check the root cellar,” Alistair said. Probably looking for cheese, Mirun thought.

“Ahh, maybe there’s a still!” Oghren said, looking pleased and following after him.

Mirun shook his head and headed off towards the barn, Zevran following him. Fortunately, the barn was empty. He’d half been afraid they might find some poor animal starved to death, but any animals left had either escaped or been dragged out and killed outright by the darkspawn.

He and Zevran checked several empty stalls before Mirun reached a ladder leading up to a loft overhead. He shrugged off his pack and left it on the ground, then headed up the rickety ladder. He poked his head into the loft and found a wide room with a large pile of hay near the back wall, and more spread out across the floor. At the end of the barn there was a large door set into the wall. From the placement Mirun knew that it opened onto a drop, overlooking the barn door below. But there was also a smaller window set in the side of the barn.

Mirun climbed up into the loft and rustled through the sweet hay to open the shutters. He found a short drop to a sloped roof, from which he could easily jump to the ground. This was a perfect place for them to camp–defensible, and with an easy escape route. He went back to the ladder and scrambled down. “Zevran, come look at this,” he said. Grabbing his pack, he climbed back up the ladder and dropped his pack in the hay. He heard Zevran coming up the ladder after him, and soon he was standing in the loft, looking around.

“If any darkspawn come we can stop them at the ladder, and if we have to get away we can go out the window,” he explained.

“It does look like an excellent place to spend the night,” Zevran said, dropping his pack next to Mirun’s. He walked over to stand next to Mirun, looking out the small window. In the farmhouse yard below Leliana was trying to corner a brown hen, no doubt intending it for dinner, but the bird kept dashing or fluttering just out of her reach. Mirun laughed, watching her lunge for it, and Zevran put his hand on the small of Mirun’s back as he leaned over to see what Mirun was watching.

Mirun could barely feel the pressure of Zevran’s hand through his leather armor, but he could feel his ears warming anyway. It was no secret to anyone in the party, least of all Zevran, that he was attracted to the other man, though so far nothing had come of it save a couple sweet but fleeting kisses. Since joining the Gray Warden Mirun had placed the king on the throne in Orzammar and defeated a horde of abominations. But when he was around Zevran he felt like a callow youth, too inexperienced to join the hunters on their trips into the forest.

He straightened up, turning to face Zevran, feeling an almost irresistible urge to reach out and touch the tattoos curving down his cheek. Zevran watched him steadily, a slight smile curving his lips, and Mirun felt the heat creeping further down his ears. “We should go join the others,” he said abruptly.

Zevran’s smile widened, and when Mirun turned to leave he stepped in front of him, blocking his way. “Stay just a little longer,” he said, running his hand down Mirun’s arm.

Mirun wasn’t sure if Zevran pulled him in or if he closed the distance between them of his own volition, but a moment later Zevran was in his arms and their lips met in a slow kiss. Their previous kisses had been so brief he’d barely had time to feel the sensation of Zevran’s lips on his, now he noticed they were warm and surprisingly soft.

The kiss was pleasant, but Mirun found himself wondering, is this all there is to it? He’d heard stories of kisses that could melt a man’s bones, and was beginning to feel a little disappointed when he felt the tip of Zevran’s tongue brush his lips. It was so brief that he thought he must have imagined it, but then he felt more clearly Zevran’s tongue lick across his lips and slide between them. He froze, not sure what to do. Zevran went back to kissing him as before, then sucked Mirun’s lower lip gently, flicking his tongue across it. Mirun heard himself let out a low moan, and felt his ears burning. When Zevran’s tongue flicked across his lip again, Mirun opened his lips slightly, and then Zevran’s tongue was in his mouth, and Mirun was starting to feel light-headed. Nervousness made him break the kiss, looking down, still pressed against Zevran’s chest. “I think we should go back down,” he said, looking back up at Zevran’s face.

“Really, my Gray Warden? Is that honestly what you wish?” Zevran asked, giving Mirun a look of such smug amusement that his nervousness was erased by annoyance.

Just to take that look off Zevran’s face, Mirun hooked his leg behind Zevran’s ankle and twisted, dropping Zevran in the hay. He made it a step towards the ladder before Zevran rolled and kicked the back of his knee, causing it to buckle. A heavy weight crashed into his back, and he fell facedown in the hay, almost knocking the wind from him. Mirun managed to throw Zevran off, but his success was short-lived. They’d only scuffled for a few more minutes before Zevran got Mirun pinned on his back, hands over his head. “You caught me by surprise,” Zevran said, sounding amused and a little chagrined. “But I think I win this round.”

Mirun was trying to catch his breath, but the real reason he did not respond was distraction at the weight of Zevran’s body pressing against his. They’d wrestled before when sparring, but never without the distracting presence of the other party members, while now they were alone. His initial urge to escape evaporated, replaced by a kind of recklessness. Instinctively, he moved his hips against Zevran. Zevran’s laughing expression changed, and he gave Mirun a speculative look. Mirun felt a blush warming his ears again, but moved again more purposefully. Zevran’s hands tightened on his wrists, and Mirun lifted his head and kissed him again.

The kiss started out tentatively, but soon took on a new urgency. When Zevran let go of his wrists, Mirun pulled him close, his hands running over Zevran’s tough leather armor. Zevran brushed Mirun’s hair back, his hand sliding to cradle Mirun’s neck, their only touch of skin on skin. Then he broke the kiss to pull away and started unbuckling Mirun’s armor before bending in for another kiss. Mirun’s hands found the buckles of Zevran’s armor as well. Their armor was similar, but it was strange taking it off of another person instead of himself, and he fumbled with the buckles.

After a moment he gave up and started helping Zevran with his own armor. Zevran rolled off him and he threw the cuirass into the hay. He unbuckled his sword belt, noting distantly that his hands were trembling, then gave a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan when Zevran started helping him with his cuisses. He was wearing trousers underneath so it was not as if this were indecent, but even in his inexperience he could tell where this situation was going. He leaned back on his palms in the hay, watching Zevran deftly unfastening the last buckles, his blond head bent. Well, he amended, considering the unmistakable bulge at his groin perhaps this was indecent. If Zevran had shown any sign of amusement he might still have backed out, but Zevran seemed to be taking the struggle with their armor as seriously as any darkspawn battle.

They threw the cuisses aside and Mirun took off his greaves. He actually only found himself hesitating when he started untying his boots. They often took off their armor in camp, but no one took off their boots until they went to bed. Shaking his head, he kicked off his boots. Zevran had been working on his armor and almost finished removing it. “Wait, let me,” Mirun said.

Zevran smiled and leaned back as Mirun knelt next to him and started unbuckling his cuisses. Mirun could feel Zevran’s thigh muscles under his hands. He imagined himself kissing his way up Zevran’s thigh, lips on bare skin, and his hands shook so he had a hard time with the buckles. Once the cuisses were dealt with he moved around in front of Zevran and took off his greaves. He leaned forward, resting his hands above Zevran’s knees, then slid his hands up Zevran’s thighs. He looked up to meet Zevran’s eyes and saw him smiling. Suddenly blushing, he took his hands away.

“Oh, don’t stop, dear Warden,” Zevran said. “I was wondering where you’d end up.”

Mirun felt his customary clumsiness returning. “I . . . I don’t even know.” He sat back on his heels, looking down at the floor.

He heard the hay rustling as Zevran moved to kneel in front of him. Zevran reached out his hand and tilted Mirun’s chin up, leaning forward to kiss him, their tongues twining together. Mirun quickly forgot his embarassment and straightened up on his knees, pressing his body to Zevran’s, his hands resting on Zevran’s arms. Zevran shifted and Mirun felt his stomach muscles jump as Zevran’s hardness pressed against his hip.

Mirun shivered when Zevran sucked gently on Mirun’s earlobe before flicking his tongue up Mirun’s ear. Goosebumps rose all down his side and he clung to Zevran, turning his head to give him better access to his sensitive ear. He felt his own erection stiffen further, and moaned again when Zevran’s hands slid down to hold his hips. Mirun slid his hands around Zevran’s back and pulled them closer together, then as Zevran kissed his neck slid his hands down further, to the curve of his buttocks.

Suddenly Zevran pulled away, and Mirun thought he’d done something wrong until Zevran pulled his shirt off over his head and tossed it aside. He moved closer to Mirun again and took his wrists, placing Mirun’s hands back where they had been. Lifting Mirun’s shirt, he slid his hand up Mirun’s abdomen to his chest. When Zevran tweaked Mirun’s nipple he gasped and his hands tightened, pulling Zevran to him. Zevran rocked his hips again, rubbing against him through the cloth, and Mirun couldn’t take it any more. He grabbed Zevran’s shoulders and pulled him down in the hay, rolling on top of him. A moment later he’d stripped his shirt off, then fumbled with the ties of Zevran’s breeches, first managing to knot them tighter. He spat a few Dalish curses as he unknotted the laces, then pulled the breeches down as Zevran raised his hips.

For a moment he just stared. He’d seen the tattoos on Zevran’s torso before, and they continued down his body, branching out curlicues on his lower abdomen above the blond hair there, with other branches continuing down his thighs. Zevran’s erection jutted proudly, and all Mirun could think was beautiful. It was maybe a little longer than his, almost straight, the foreskin drawn back in Zevran’s arousal. Looking up, he saw Zevran watching him with his familiar cocky half-smile, but when he met Mirun’s eyes his gaze softened. Mirun leaned forward to kiss him, sliding his hand up Zevran’s thigh. Before he could second-guess himself he boldly closed his hand around Zevran. Zevran made a surprised sound and Mirun stroked him a couple times experimentally, thinking it was quite like touching himself.

He was caught off guard when Zevran’s hands flew to his waist, unlacing his trousers and sliding them down over his hips. Zevran grabbed his hips and pulled them together, and Mirun gasped and closed his eyes, bending over Zevran. He took his hand away and leaned forward, resting his weight on his elbows, pressing their lengths against each other, trapped between their bodies. He felt Zevran’s lips on his neck as his hands guided Mirun to rock against him. He could feel himself sliding against Zevran, the feeling unspeakably erotic, but _not enough_. Gradually he sped up their movement, balanced by Zevran’s hands on his hips. As he drew closer to climax his breath grew ragged, and finally he stifled a cry against Zevran’s shoulder as he came.

For a moment he stilled while his senses returned, then lifted himself up on his arm to take Zevran in his hand again. Zevran bit his lip as Mirun’s hand slid up and down his length, slicked by Mirun’s seed. One of Zevran’s hands closed on the wrist he was using to brace himself, while the other clutched at the hay. Finally Zevran gave a throaty gasp and came, eyes closed, head thrown back. Mirun wished he were an artist, to paint him like this, but would have to settle for the memory he tried to emblazon in his mind.

Mirun collapsed next to Zevran, kissing him when he opened his eyes again. With his initial desperation gone he was able to concentrate on Zevran’s lips and tongue, letting him lead and trying to mimic the way his mouth moved. Finally he leaned back and Zevran smiled lazily at him. “Quite successful, Gray Warden,” he said, and Mirun felt some of his earlier awkwardness returning at the praise.

Next they had to clean up, get dressed, and collect their armor--but neither seemed to be in much of a hurry. Mirun wiped Zevran’s abdomen and chest clean with a bunch of hay, then lay back down next to him. Zevran rolled on his side, leaning on his elbow, and lazily stroked his hand up and down Mirun’s ribcage.

Suddenly they heard the clomping of someone climbing the ladder. Mirun held his breath, and Zevran went still and eased himself lower in the hay. They would be hidden from sight unless someone actually climbed up into the loft. For a moment there was silence.

“Mirun, are you up here?” Alistair called.

The corner of Zevran’s mouth twitched in amusement, and he stroked Mirun’s chest again--then ran his fingers down Mirun’s ribs, tickling him. Mirun snorted in laughter and clamped his hand over his mouth. Then he uncovered his mouth and called, “Go away, Alistair!”

“Is Zevran with you?” Alistair asked suspiciously, and Mirun knew he must have spotted their discarded armor.

Zevran grinned and called out, “Would you care to join us, dear Warden?”

“No! I’ll just, ah, see you at dinner.” They heard him go back down the ladder.

“Dinner, that could be a while if that hen keeps eluding Leliana,” Zevran said, and slid his hand down to rest on Mirun’s abdomen.

“Not so long, I’m sure she’s gotten fed up and shot it by now,” Mirun answered. He paused, and Zevran’s hand slid down lower. Mirun smiled slowly. “But perhaps long enough,” he said, and pulled Zevran down for another kiss.


End file.
